


you're everything i ever wanted (and worth dying for too)

by JewFlexive



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (because it was never really gone), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Child Abuse, Safehouses, Slow To Update, and lily saves severus, and what was lost is found again, first wizarding war, in which severus saves lily, no beta we die like cedric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JewFlexive/pseuds/JewFlexive
Summary: Severus looks soft in the golden glow of the sunset, soft in a way that Lily can't remember him being since they were children and the monsters had not yet come for them. It's nice, to see him smile like this. Nice to smile back. Nice to know they both still can, despite all the wrong they've seen. All the wrong they've done."I missed you," Lily tells him, but she means so much more."And I missed you, Lily," his voice is quiet, almost timid, as if this confession is some sort of secret. Perhaps it is. Perhaps secrets are all Severus can give her now. Lily thinks she should mind, but she can't bring herself to try. She'll take his secrets, take them from him gratefully and keep them safe, hide them as well as Severus has hidden her. She'll take anything he gives her for as long as he lets her. She leans against him and they sit silent  for a moment before he continues, his tone gentle and so, so afraid. "More than you know."
Relationships: Lily Evans Potter/Severus Snape, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 68





	1. more love streaming out the wrong way

Lily doesn’t know what Severus is doing here. 

James has been telling her such horror stories, his low voice syrup-slick as he leans over to whisper each one of Severus’ sins in her ear. James always wears a coy, oily smirk as he murmurs his poison, leaning so close that his breath ghosts over Lily’s neck, as if each piece of information he gives her is the one that will finally convince her to put his ring on her finger. That’s the problem with James, Lily is quickly learning. He hates to distraction, and so often that hate eclipses whatever love he might feel. 

(Lily refused James quite easily, something she almost feels sorry for, since he’d taken it in his head to propose at their graduation ceremony in front of what felt like the entire Wizarding World. But they’d only been dating for six months, so Lily doesn’t feel like her reaction was in any way unreasonable. Given his resulting tantrum in response to her incredulous _of course not, what in the hell are you thinking asking such a thing_ , Lily feels quite secure in her decision, and each time James visits her home with yet another story of Severus’ misdeeds, she only grows more and more certain that she would have _hated_ being Mrs. Potter.)

Severus looks good, Lily notices idly as they stare at one another. Distinguished. His long hair is clean and smooth, the ends barely brushing the collar of his unbuttoned duster. He is still thin, but he’s lost the haggard frame of his Hogwarts years. She can see the curve of wiry muscles through his shirt, and while his hands are still stained with ink, his nails are cleaner than she’s ever seen them. He’ll never be as handsome as James-- his thrice broken nose still takes up too much of his face, his teeth are crooked, and his trousers are still a touch too short. But he looks healthy, and the lines on his forehead have smoothed to nearly nothing. 

“Severus,” Lily breathes, forgetting for a moment that his duster probably covers one of those damned tattoos and the late-night promise she made to herself all those years ago to never speak to him again. “You've grown up.”

A small, nearly invisible smile flits across his face, but it is gone so quickly that later Lily convinces herself that she must have imagined it. It is beginning to snow, and Lily watches, entranced, as snowflakes catch on Severus’ hair, bright white juxtaposed perfectly against jet black. That brief hint of a grin still plays at the corner of his full lips, and oh, he is so, so dear that it is all Lily can do not to weep at the sight of that tiny glint of happiness.

“So have you,” Severus replies, his voice smoother than she remembers it being. His Northern accent is all but gone, but she can still hear the slight burr in those brief words, and the sound warms Lily down to her toes. His dark eyes are wide as he stares at her, almost in awe, and it is difficult for Lily not to buckle under the unabashed tenderness she finds in his gaze. “You look… You look lovely.”

“What are you doing here?” Lily forces herself to focus on the situation instead of how his compliment makes her heart twitch dangerously. She hopes that he blames her blush on the cold. 

Severus straightens then, though he was hardly slouching before, his face going carefully blank as he clasps his hands together. Any trace of kindness she might have seen in him is gone in that moment, and all that is left is cold calculation. 

“You have to leave,” he informs her, his voice frigid. “Your flat is one of the next targets in a raid--” his voice hitches, just for a moment, and Lily knows that it is only her intimate knowledge of Severus that even allows her to pick up on his momentary slip, “I have been designated to come and collect you in order to move you to a safe house of the Order’s choosing.”

Lily gapes at him and doesn’t move. He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. It is quiet for one moment, two.

“Lily--” he tries again.

“I don’t remember you being this stupid, Severus,” she cuts him off, ignoring the brief flash of hurt in the dark eyes of the man before her. “What are you _thinking_?”

“I--”

Lily shakes her head, her hair whipping across her face and brushing her bare neck. Severus isn’t in the Order-- if he was, he’d know the codes, he’d know that all their safehouses are full. He must be desperate, she thinks, to risk exposing himself like this.

“You’re not _in_ the Order, Severus,” Lily exclaims, crossing her arms and glaring meaningfully at his forearm before turning her eyes back to his. He doesn’t look surprised at her outburst, only disappointed, the right side of his mouth twitching unhappily. “You’re-- what are you doing? Are you trying to-- to _lure_ me somewhere? Or--”

“Lily, please,” the previous iciness in Severus’ tone is melted through, and all Lily hears now is anxiety, is bone-crushing fear as her old friend’s deep-dark eyes widen and he puts his hands up, palms forward, skittish. He hasn’t gone for his wand yet, which is the only reason Lily hasn’t gone for hers, but she’s watching him, waiting for him to make a move. “You need to trust me, Order or not. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’d never-- You need to run. I need you to run.”

“Why do you want me to run? What do you get out of this? Severus answer me--”

He does answer her, though not in the way that Lily expects. He takes two steps forward, gets in her face, until his hands are brushing the folds in her dress, and it is all Lily can do not to fall straight into his arms. Idly, she notices how very tall he is, how small she feels standing next to him. It should scare her, this clear imbalance between them. But she can feel his heavy breaths on her cheek as she tilts her head up to stare at him, can feel his fingers ghosting over the fabric at her waist, and all Lily can feel is angry anticipation gathering in her chest, spreading through her bones like wildfire. She wants to kill him. She wants to kiss him. She wants him _gone_.

“What do I get out of this?” Severus’s once smooth voice is explosive now, vicious, and most of all _hurt_ as he rages at Lily, as his dangerously heated gaze meets her own fiery glare head-on. “How can you ask me that? How can you even--”

“You’re a Death Eater,” Lily snaps punishingly, her voice colder than the wind whipping around them, her eyes burning with furious tears as she pounds her fists against his chest. “You’re everything I ever feared. So answer the question Severus Snape, or so help me, I’ll--”

“What do I get out of saving your life?” Severus asks again incredulously, a sharp bark of a laugh punctuating the question. In one swift, fluid movement that reveals that feline grace that Lily knows he learned from watching his mother, Severus catches both her fists as they fly at him, quelling her with his piercing gaze and the just-this-side of painful pressure he uses to still her hands, to pull them to his chest. “Merlin, it’s like you don’t know.”

Lily shakes her head, confused, but doesn’t interrupt for once. Somehow, this moment feels too fragile, too vital to shatter with her quick anger and raging hurt. Severus is looking up at the sky, furrowing his eyebrows at the snowflakes as if he is noticing the weather for the first time, biting his lower lip in the same way he did when they were just children and the world was kinder. Oh, Lily has _missed_ him, has missed everything about him-- and isn’t that dangerous? Isn’t that terrible, to love a man with dark magic singing seductive in his blood, a man with violence and terror as his inheritance? Isn’t this _exactly_ what Lily deserves?

“What do I get out of this?” Severus’ voice is but a murmur now. He leans down further until their noses are touching, and Lily doesn’t dare breathe. His right hand lets go of one of her clenched fists and reaches up to cup her cheek, and though it is colder than death, Lily feels herself leaning into it. Severus lip twitches, and his eyes spark with something ephemeral and wild and seething. “ _This_ , Lily. Merlin, I get _this_.”

Then Severus wrenches Lily to him, his left hand hand grasping desperately into the flesh of her hip, the other tipping her chin up with those beautiful fingers. He kisses her on the mouth, _hard_ , his cold lips pressed against hers in one single, searing moment of blinding intensity and before she can react, before Lily can open her lips and drink him in, he’s pulling himself away from her almost violently, stumbling as he backs away from her as if _she_ is the dangerous one. Warmth pools low in Lily’s belly and she goes to reach for him, but he looks at her with such shame, such unbridled terror as they stand there, and for just one moment, she sees the mask slip, sees the scared little boy who she loves so dearly. But then Severus remembers himself, or rather, forgets to _forget_ himself, and his face hardens he storms away, leaving Lily standing on her doorstep with outstretched arms and a twice-broken heart. She touches her lips idly, her fingers tracing the outline of his kiss as snowflakes weave themselves between her eyelashes and the wind bites at her cheeks.

Lily stands in the cold alone, silent, and aches.

(Later, a nondescript barn owl taps on Lily’s window, a piece of scrap parchment in its claws. The bird doesn’t bother to wait for the bit of bacon she offers it, too much like its master to bother with such pleasantries. 

_Forgive my forwardness earlier_ , the letter reads. He doesn’t bother with a greeting or a signature, but Lily would recognize Severus’ spidery scrawl anywhere. _I could think of no truer way of convincing you. The raid is scheduled for tomorrow night at six. Either tell your Order now or meet me in Spinner’s End by five tomorrow evening. I never meant to be something you feared, Lily. Please don’t fear me now, not when I can save you. Please_ (this word is underlined twice) _let me save you._

Lily doesn’t cry as she packs up her flat, but it’s a close thing.)


	2. there’s a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Severus survives-- at all and any cost.

It’s almost dawn when Severus finally stops trying to fight his sleeplessness and heaves himself out of bed. It’s a waste of time to attempt sleep at this point when the sunrise is already painting his gray bedroom gold and he has so much to do. Severus can always try for sleep another night, but if he does have to go a week without being capable of closing his eyes for more than five minutes-- well, there are worse things, and Severus has enough coffee in the house to stave off the worst of his lethargy. There is work, important work, that needs doing.

Severus stretches, joints cracking as he rolls his shoulders and leans forward to grab a pair of pants. He doesn’t bother with a jumper or trousers, not this early, but the floorboards are like ice on his bare feet, so he pulls on some socks before he drifts listlessly into his kitchen, eyes gritty and stinging. He puts the kettle on and throws some leftover shepherd’s pie into the oven to warm before going to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a piss. Severus doesn’t bother combing his hair before grabbing a hair band and throwing it up in a tangled bun-- he’ll brush it out later, after he eats. He hasn’t eaten in-- Merlin, it has to have been three days, fuck he’s a _mess_ \-- and he sighs in relief after he inhales breakfast, downing three mugs of steaming black coffee in quick succession. 

He dresses nicely not because of who he might be seeing later but because he _can_ dress nicely now. Now, Severus can wear soft knitted jumpers over clean, crisp button-downs and trousers that actually fit with hems the proper length. It’s awful, what he’s done to be able to wear clothing like this-- awful for a lot of reasons. But Severus allows himself to enjoy this one thing, allows himself to take comfort in the fact that his socks no longer have holes in the toes and his pants aren’t small and grayed from constant washing. He hadn’t _needed_ new clothing like he’d needed to keep his house and bury his mother and have enough to eat, but he’d wanted some so badly, and blood money is blood money whether it’s sitting untouched in a vault or being spent. 

As Severus dresses and deals with the rat nest perched on top of his head, he mentally goes over his plans for the day. He has a meeting with his advisor Sebastian Merry at ten. If all goes well, Seb will sign off on Severus’ Mastery by eleven, leaving six hours for Severus to put the finishing touches on the cottage’s wards and fill up the pantry. Of course, it should only take Severus two hours at most to finish those two tasks, but that’s just as well. He doubts he’ll be able to limit his frenzied panicking to only four hours as it is. 

It’s seven-thirty by the time Severus walks out the door, his gloved hands stuffed into his pockets. He’d forgotten his gloves yesterday, he notes idly, nodding to his neighbors as they leave for work. Severus had forgotten them, and he had been frightfully cold until he’d touched her, until he’d-- no, he’s not thinking about that, not now, maybe not ever. Severus swallows as he grimly forces his shields back into place.

A few grinning children call out to him by name from their porches as they kiss their fathers goodbye. Their mothers wave cheerfully from their windows, a few leaning out to invite him in for a cuppa and rolling their eyes good-naturedly as he declines. Severus hopes his smiles don’t look like grimaces, hopes that his words are polite and not pretentious, because for all that the people of Spinner’s End have cared for him over the years, he has not always cared for them. 

But Tobias is dead now, or at least, he might as well be, and Severus’ mother is too, and his resentment towards his neighbors seems to have died with them both. If Severus’ parents lived, maybe the mark on his arm would feel like a victory-- a hollow victory, to be sure, but a victory nonetheless. Now, however, his pragmatism seems more like cowardice, and while Severus knows that there is no one in Spinner’s End that would begrudge him the choice he’d made-- these people are the practical, surviving sort and would never expect him to be any different-- Severus still feels like he’s let his neighbors down.

Though calling it a choice might be a stretch-- Severus has been hungry and grieving and cold and Tobias had run out on more debts than Severus could count. No one but Lucius and Narcissa had ever seemed to give a rat’s arse about Severus’ circumstances, so when Lucius had come with the offer, what else was Severus supposed to do? Dig in his heels and die over something as trifling as the moral high ground? Severus has never been one for principles-- he has never had the opportunity to think deeply on his own personal moral standards, and integrity has always placed lower than survival on his list of priorities.

Maybe this makes Severus a bad person, he muses, as he strolls around his neighborhood, stopping to chat with a few of his neighbors to kill time before his meeting. At nine-thirty, Severus apparates to Seb’s office in Brighton. He knows that Lily thinks it does. In 1974, she’d scoured the Cokeworth Public Library for books on famous martyrs, waxing poetic about Rosa Luxemburg and Joan of Arc all summer long. 

(“It’s the bravest thing imaginable,” Lily had sighed, green eyes sparkling merrily as she waved the book in Severus’ face. “Being ready and willing to die for what you believe in.”  
  
“It’s unrealistic, is what it is,” Severus had snorted, pushing the book away half-heartedly and leaning back against a tree trunk. The bark dug into the welts on his back, but that was good, that was grounding, and Lily didn’t ever have to know. “Not to mention horribly idiotic. Come on, Lily, there’s a reason that the most famous martyrs in history are two teenagers with no survival instincts and even less common sense.” 

“I don’t know if I’d call Romeo and Juliet _martyrs_ , Sev,” Lily had laughed, bumping his shoulder with hers and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “What I mean is that-- Well, what I mean is that there is something intrinsically valuable in setting a standard for yourself, you know? In drawing a line in the sand and saying ‘I will go no further.’ If you can’t draw that line, if you’d sell your soul rather than stand by what you believe in-- well, that’s _cowardice_ , Sev, don’t you see? You have to believe that strongly in something, you have to be willing to speak your truth and damn the consequences or else you won’t really be worth anything to anyone, alive or dead.”

For one wild moment, Severus thought about looking Lily in the eye and speaking his _truth_ and seeing how Lily liked it, thought about confessing to her that awful, searing secret that hummed frantic in his blood and crept into his nightmares. _I don’t believe in anything_ , he’d wanted to tell her. _I don’t even believe in myself. What am I worth, Lily, if I can’t even believe in myself?_ But Severus was no martyr. He’d drawn no lines that he could risk crossing with a little white lie.

“You’re right, of course,” Severus had hummed instead, leaning his head on Lily’s shoulder and closing his eyes. The sun had been too bright and Lily’s chattering had been too loud, but she had been warm and the grass had been soft and Lily had stroked his hair soothingly with one hand as she spoke, so Severus had let himself drift far away, feeling lazy and content. “Tell me more about Olympe de Gouges, will you?”)

Well, maybe Severus _is_ a bad person. Maybe that’s why Dumbledore never stopped Potter and his friends. Maybe that’s why Slughorn never bothered to write Severus a letter of recommendation when he’d asked, despite the fact that Severus had received a perfect score on his Potions N.E.W.T. and the last person to have done _that_ was Nicholas bloody Flamel. Maybe if Severus wasn’t a bad person, someone besides Lucius would have approached him after Eileen died, maybe he wouldn’t have had to pay such a high price for survival. 

But when Severus steps into Seb’s richly appointed office, he can’t bring himself to regret his _cowardice_. Sebastian Merry has been an excellent advisor as well as a good friend and under him, Severus has earned not only a general Potions Mastery, but two certificates in Experimental Potioneering and Spell Development. Seb had even allowed Severus to test out of certain modules so that he was able to finish his education early-- making Severus the youngest Potions Master in England. There’s some pock-marked pureblood kid in Wales that has him beat by three years, but seeing as he was privately tutored and is a member of one of the three richest families in Britain, Severus doesn’t feel overly threatened. 

Seb is a good advisor and a good man. At first, it had boggled Severus’ mind that someone so genuinely kind had gained the respect of Lucius Malfoy-- especially since Seb has rather adamantly remained neutral in the conflict and suffers under the unfortunate condition of being a Hufflepuff, a house Lucius has even less respect for than Gryffindor. But Seb is still a pureblood, if not one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and he is also adamantly no friend of Dumbledore’s, and Lucius, for all that he has _some_ scruples, remains unwilling to limit his sphere of influence only to those who agree with his politics. Seb is intelligent and respectable enough to hold Lucius’ interest, and for that alone Severus feels lucky to be his apprentice. 

“Good morning, Severus,” Seb greets him warmly from his parchment-covered desk, a cup of steaming tea at his elbow, waving for Severus to sit in the armchair opposite him. A mug of peppermint tea rests on a little side table next to the chair, and after Severus takes off his coat and removes his gloves, he picks up the mug and hisses contentedly as the warm ceramic hits his skin. Seb laughs at his reaction, his hazel eyes glinting. “It’s cold, then?”

“Colder in Yorkshire,” Severus replies easily, sitting down and taking a long sip. The tea is just what Severus needed. He’ll have to ask Seb’s wife for the blend. “Not so bad here. Of course, you’d know that if you ever left your desk.”

“Going outside is overrated,” Seb scoffs, leaning back in his chair to run a hand through his graying hair. “And quit nagging me, you-- Merlin, you’re worse than Marianne.”  
  
“Your wife is a very intelligent woman,” Severus shrugs. “Smarter than you, anyhow.”

Seb gasps in mock rage and throws a crumpled up piece of parchment at Severus in retaliation. It lands right into Severus’ tea. 

“Oi!” Severus grouses, fishing out the bit of parchment with his little finger and flicking it onto Seb’s desk. “Act your age, will you?”

“Why should I when you’re ancient enough for the both of us?” Seb teases, entirely unaffected by the glare Severus levels his way. “At this rate, you’ll have arthritis and dementia by spring.”

“As long as I’ve got my degrees by then, I’ll suffer them gladly,” Severus huffs, finishing his tea in three big gulps and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “So what’s the news?”

“Oh, I’ve already signed off on all three,” Seb says dismissively, nodding to a blue file to his right. “You should be getting the official diplomas by mail in the next week or so, depending on how fast those Ministry bureaucrats process them. I just wanted to check in, really, and remind you that this had better not be the last I see of you. I like you, Severus. You’re smart and talented and driven-- Merlin, I’d offer you a place on my research team if I thought you’d accept. So--”

(Severus is not a martyr. He has no principles, no standards-- there is no line he won’t cross. The mark on his arm is proof of that. But the Mark is also a line, it is another principle that Severus is unwilling to die for, and he doesn’t like having limits like this, doesn’t like the feeling of having no way out. So maybe-- maybe, if he keeps his head down, maybe if he only does the bare minimum of what Lucius requires of him, maybe if he keeps his mouth shut and ears open for a new option, he can find a way out of the choice he had to make without having to turn traitor to the Order just yet. If Seb keeps him on, he would be respectable by association. Severus would be safe-- safe enough that, if things don’t go Lucius’ way, he’ll have time to plan an exit route.)

“I’d accept,” Severus cuts Seb off. At the older man’s considering look, he flushes, but soldiers on. “If you offered me a place, I mean. I’d accept.”

“Really?” Seb asks after a long moment of silence, raising one thin eyebrow and taking a drink from his own cup of tea. He tilts his head to one side, eyes studying Severus curiously. “But I thought that you were all set on making your own way.”

“I was,” Severus admits, biting his lip as he determines how best to proceed. “But-- but you were right. It was an unrealistic goal, with things as they are, and, in any case, I really don’t have the money to establish myself properly. Honestly, though, I just-- I really like working with you, Seb, and if you still want me, I’d like to stay. Not just because you’re a giant in the field, though that doesn’t _hurt_ , of course, but because you’re my _friend_ , Seb, and I don’t have a lot of those.”

Seb is silent for a full minute after Severus finishes speaking. The silence makes Severus antsy and embarrassed, and after a moment, he can’t look his advisor in the eye any longer, turning to stare down at his feet, face burning.

“Severus,” Seb finally says, his voice gentle. He sounds almost paternal, and for a brief instant, his shields shake, and Severus almost wants to cry. Tobias had never been this tender with him, not ever, not once. “You know that there’s no shame in anything you just said, don’t you?”

Severus shrugs, eyes still glued to the rug. Seb sighs and shuffles a few papers around.

“Write me when you get the official copies of your degree and I’ll introduce you to the team,” Seb tells him, letting the subject drop. Severus looks back up at him, hoping his face shows his mentor the gratitude he doesn’t think he’ll be able to express verbally just yet. By the small, indulgent smile Seb shoots him, the message is received. “Until then, take care of yourself, alright? Stay warm.”

“You too, Seb.”

Severus leaves Seb’s office at eleven fifteen feeling more hopeful than he did when he entered, and that’s-- that’s nice. That’s good. But Severus still has an emptiness in his chest, still feels strange and unhappy inside. He distracts himself with chores. He’s still got a lot to do-- he’s already filled the safehouse with dry and canned goods, of course, but Lily will need produce and some milk, too, and the wards need to be triple-checked. Of course, Severus thinks as he shops, there’s a good chance that Lily won’t lay eyes on the cottage, much less cook there, that she’ll have already called her Order and that Severus will find Aurors waiting for him when he returns home instead of his former best friend. 

(His former best friend who he kissed on the mouth. Which, yeah, he’s not going to think about that part because it hadn’t been like that. Not really. It’s only that he’d never been able to reach Lily with words-- they were always too sharp and angry to appeal to her. He’d _lost_ Lily through his words, had ripped the one good thing in his life to shreds because when he was sixteen his stupid mouth had never learned how to do anything but beg or malign, and he had promised himself when he was eleven years old that he would not be reduced to _begging_ ever again. Actions though-- actions Severus could handle. A hand steadying her as the staircase shifted beneath their feet. A blanket conjured during a late night study session. Class notes pressed into her hand after she spent a week in the Hospital Wing. A kiss. These things have said more for him than Severus’ clumsy, crude words ever have. The kiss meant nothing. It meant _nothing_ , and Severus refuses to dwell on it.

Really. He does. His insomnia last night was entirely unrelated.)

Severus finishes up at the cottage at four and spends the next hour pacing in his living room. Laura, one of his neighbors, had invited him over for supper earlier, and part of him had really wanted to say yes, if only to have one good meal before being carted off to Azkaban. But if the Aurors found him eating with Muggles, their memories would have to be wiped and the charges against him would be astronomically worse, though frankly, Severus is more concerned with Laura and her family being accosted by some ham-fisted Cleaner than he is with the risk to himself, if only because he doubts it would make any real difference. Severus is no fool-- he’s a no-name Slytherin half-blood with minimal connections and the fucking Dark Mark. They could and will throw the book at him. A few more charges won’t make a difference either way.

It’s funny. When Severus had tracked Lily down with his warning, he hadn’t worried about the risk one bit, hadn’t given it any thought at all. All that had mattered was her safety, and Severus would risk _anything_ for Lily’s safety, his own life be damned. 

_Oh,_ Severus realizes suddenly. He slowly lowers himself down onto a shabby armchair. _Oh_.

When Lucius came to him, Severus knew he was not willing to die for his beliefs, that he was willing to parrot whatever filth the Death Eaters spew in order to survive. Severus knew that he was no martyr, that he was all too willing to leave his convictions and what little integrity he had left at the door, that he would rather live a lie than die with truth on his lips, that there was nothing and no one that he would readily die for. 

No one but Lily. No one but her. Is that worse? It feels worse, somehow. It aches, somewhere in his chest, and Severus struggles to breathe. He has never believed in anything-- what was there to believe in? Tobias had hurt him. Eileen had let Tobias hurt him and then died the first and only time she hadn’t. Hogwarts had turned its back on him. Lucius had manipulated him, and Lily--

Lily. 

Severus buries his face in his hands and screws his eyes shut. He lowers his shields and lets himself cry, just a little. It’s four forty-five. He’s got some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone and their families are safe and healthy during this crisis. 
> 
> I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter-- but I do think it was important for me to establish where Sev's head is at right now. Let me know your thoughts in the comments! I love reading/responding to you guys. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Did I start another Severus/Lily AU and post it without it being finished? YES!  
> Do I have any idea how this will end? NO!  
> Am I going to update in any reasonable amount of time? DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH!  
> Will I regret this? PROBABLY!  
> Do I want you to comment and make me somehow feel better about having another WIP on my profile? PLEASE!  
> Am I sorry? DEFINITELY!  
> Will I ever change? DON'T COUNT ON IT!
> 
> (Please comment!!!!!! I promise I will try to get another chapter up before I die of Corona!!!!!!)


End file.
